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Once there was a young man named Yoshi, who when he turned eighteen, was sold to the Master of a prosperous temple, the Dragon King Temple, as an indentured laborer by his impoverished parents. His parents had hoped that the kind-hearted old Master would finish their son’s education, and train Yoshi to be a respected monk in the community, doing good deeds in ways they couldn’t.
Well, Yoshi was by nature a cunning and mean-spirited creature, never intending to study Buddhism as he should. Instead of working hard chopping wood, grinding millets, planting yams, or meditating, he busied himself with socializing with the Master’s political allies in the local government, trading favors with the officials on behalf of the Master himself, or plotting ways to ascend the temple throne someday.
In those dark days, there were many things roaming the earth alongside people and animals: ghosts, demons, and spirits of all kinds. There were gods, beings, and creatures, both evil and benevolent.
The old Master was a good man, and had possessed magical power to tame the tempestuous dragon king, so as to protect the livelihood of the local fishermen. As a young man, he had traveled to central Asia to study Buddhism, and acquired knowledge of portents and omens to tell the future, and magical implements like amulets, wands and scrolls of spell to power over the evil spirits and demons. Officials from many provinces, nearby and afar, came seeking his advice and blessings for their fortunes and high positions. But he had foolishly seen in Yoshi a rising star with the brains and heart of a good god’s servant. He trusted Yoshi, and took care of him like his own son, his heir apparent, unselfishly sharing his temple wealth and secrets of his magical power. Yoshi was just as happy playing along with the old Master’s emotions, waiting for his turn to rise up to the top of the temple mount.
Many years later, the old Master passed away, leaving the temple to Yoshi’s care. Once Yoshi became the new Master, he was a changed man. He no longer bothered to feign modesty. He cast a mighty spell over the surrounding community, hypnotized its citizens into surrendering all their possessions to the temple. The merchants, peasants and fishermen alike became poor with little to live on, while the new Master and his temple became mighty rich. Yoshi and his close associates enjoyed an opulent life of guilty pleasures inside the temple, hidden from public view. People called Yoshi the “Golden Monk” because he was a very rich monk full of gold and treasures.
**********
He lived like this, alone and content, for a couple of years.
One morning, in his little garden, the monk was down on his knees weeding the patch of herbs when he spotted a white strip slithering through the weeds and mud. He was horrified to find out that it was an albino snake, pearly white with faint yellow stripes. He jumped to his feet, grabbing his hoe, ready to attack the snake.
Then he had a thought, “I shall not kill living things. Buddha would not approve. Besides, the snake, although a wild thing, meant me no harm.” The monk stared at the white snake; it stared back with its glistening amber eyes. He looked at his hoe, and he sighed, and laid down the hoe, “You can take the green from my garden if you wish. It looks like you are hungry,” he spoke to the snake. The snake seemed to understand, paused, then slithered away into the woods.
A few days later, in the evening, a blanket of thick, dark clouds gathered around the mountaintop. The monk knew a drenching rain was on the way. He didn’t even stir when the lightning struck, followed by growling thunders so loud that it felt as if the mountain was shaken from its gut. He remained calm inside the temple doing his devotions.
The rain poured down, pounding the rooftop of the little temple like the beating of a hundred drums, almost drowning out the weak weeping sound from the courtyard. But the young monk did hear someone sobbing, and he went out and saw a young woman standing in the rain, soaking wet, her silky robe clinging to her pearly white body like a second skin.
The monk was ashamed, painfully aware of the young woman’s beauty and her glistening body in the wet. He helped her to her feet into the temple where they could be out of the rain.
“I am the daughter of the governor of the YuNan Prefect. I was traveling with a group of guards and women to a Buddhist retreat when we were ambushed by a band of robbers. I alone escaped,” she told him as she wrung out the water from her robe and her long black hair before entering into the prayer hall. The monk sat her down and offered her a bowl of rice and yams. She gobbled them up hungrily as she stared at him with her bright amber eyes.
She continued, “I also overheard the robbers as saying that they are coming to this temple to rob and kill anyone they find here, when the rain stops. We must flee this place before they come. If we don’t, we will both die. If we leave together and if you can bring me back to the YuNan Prefect safely, you will be richly rewarded by my father. Thank you for your rice and yams. They tasted really good.”
The young monk was thinking, and began to see something. “I guess we must leave this place immediately. But, before we leave, Could you explain one thing to me first?”
“And, what would that be?” said the girl.
“Why does the daughter of the governor of the YuNan Prefect have eyes like yours, amber and not black? They don’t look human.”
On hearing that, the girl confessed, “I am sorry that I lied. I am the white snake whose life you have spared a few days ago in the garden. I have seen bad omens coming your way, and tried to forewarn you.”
The monk said nothing. He walked out into the courtyard, and thinking over the pouring rain.
“I will not leave this place,” he said, “I am duty-bound to my Master and the temple to stay. Now, whatever you are, snake or human, you are free to stay or leave.”
“I shall leave if you desire it,” whispered the snake in her girl’s voice. “But I have lived all my life in a den by the waterfall, in the woods, and it would hurt me to leave,”
“Then stay,” said the monk, “if you will not play any more of your snake tricks on me.”
“Of course,” said the girl, as she stepped slowly off the temple, into the misty rainy night.
Since that stormy night, the monk caught sight of the snake from time to time, slithering through the hedges and shrubs, and the sight of her always made him smile. He remembered the touch of her skin, when she pretended to be a girl, and it was a sweet memory of bonds and affection that he thought he had put behind long ago.
The young monk did not know that the snake had fallen deeply in love with him when he spared her life by the garden. After the stormy night, it was unquestionable that the snake would devote herself to her beloved till the end of time. It was a beautiful thing, the monk and the snake, living side by side in harmony and joy. And that was to be the beginning of much sorrow in the journey to come, for people then didn’t believe in humans messing up with unclean animals. “Nothing good will come of it,” they told each other.
**********
The Master, the Golden Monk, who inherited fortune-telling power from his old master, had seen that there would be death to him and big trouble for the temple, brought on by the young monk, who was long cast-away and forgotten by him. He decided that the young monk must die. So he sought counsel with the demon who was a strange, grotesque creature glowing with ghost-like blue hue.
“I want the young monk to die, but not violently. I need your counsel as to how he shall die.”
This is what the demon told the Master, “I shall send my dark knights to take care of him. The young monk shall have an evil dream. In his dream, my knights will steal his shadow, and slice his shadow into shreds. Without his shadow, the young monk is without a soul. He would wake up losing connections to the living world, and no food or water. He would soon die.”
The Master nodded, satisfied, and thanked the demon for his clever idea.
**********
In the young monk’s dream, he was standing in front of his childhood house, which was lost to his parents’ enemies after they were disgraced. He went inside the house, entering the room where he grew up in, and seeing the monkey which he had rescued from a wildlife market from slaughter as a young boy and raised as a pet. The monkey was his best friend for many years until it was killed in a valiant fight against his parents’ enemies when they came to possess the house.
He tried to pet the monkey on the head, but the monkey suddenly jumped to his feet, and started chewing and tearing at his robe violently. This was unlike anything that his pet monkey had ever done before. The young monk quickly exited the room, closing the door behind him (although, in his dream, he thought he had seen the monkey glowed with the flickering blue hue.).
When he woke, he was drenched in sweat, feeling deeply troubled, wondering if the dream was an omen or warning. “If it was something bad, may Buddha take it away,” he said a silent prayer, and began to rise up to do his chore of bringing in water. As soon as he stood up, he stumbled, and collapsed onto his sleeping mat, limp and lifeless.
The snake had waited in the vegetable garden all day for the young monk. When he failed to show up, she was worried, and decided to go inside the temple to check on him in her maiden form.
The snake-girl found the young monk unconscious in his sleeping mat. She immediately squatted next to him, holding him by her chest to keep him warm, desperately trying to save his life. In the end, she wasn’t able to revive him. The monk was breathless by the morning, his eyes shut, and his skin turned purple. “Oh I would have given my life for you,” she wept over his dead body. “Let me die with you!”
“Live,” said a gentle voice from the sky.
The snake-girl threw herself to the ground, “Buddha, please help me - tell me who had killed the monk?”
The voice told her what had happened to the young monk in the dream. “His body is now on the sleeping mat; his spirit will go where it is meant to go.”
“The Golden Monk must pay for this, taking something from a snake spirit,” said the snake-girl, gritting her sharp teeth.
“Seek not revenge, but the Buddha.” said the voice. “You are a fool to meddle in the human affairs.”
“I shall seek the Buddha,” said the snake. “but only after I seek revenge. It is the right thing to do. Buddha, please, please help me.”
“As you wish,” said the voice. The snake could not tell if it was happy or unhappy, satisfied or dissatisfied. “You may have a little time to say farewell to the monk.”
There was a mirror in one corner of the prayer hall. From the mirror came a gentle glow, as if the sun was shining at the final hour of the day. The snake-girl picked up the mirror. She saw in the mirror the young monk as if he was painted out of light. When he observed that she was looking at him, he turned, “Why did you come here? Why did you search me out?” although he knew already why. “Because I care for you,” said the snake-girl sadly. “Now you saw me – you must know that it is time for you to leave.” “I shall do something for you. You shall not die like this.”
The young monk rose out of the mirror, while the snake-girl watched him in the dark. Perhaps they bid farewell to each other, between a man who had forsaken the world and a snake spirit – a chasm that could not be crossed, but was crossed somehow. One might think, at that time, they made love, or that they dreamed that they did, perhaps.
When they were done with their farewells, the monk went inside the mirror. “You shall be revenged,” whispered the snake-girl. The monk looked at the snake-girl one last time, “Seek not revenge, but the Buddha,” he said; then he turned and walked into the heart of the mirror and was gone.
There was a funeral for the young monk in the little temple, and he was buried on the mountainside, beside the other monks who had tended the little temple centuries before him.
**********
The Golden Monk was relieved that the young monk was dead, and he was still alive.
Then one night under the full moon, he dreamed that he was visited by a mysterious maiden of high status. She came to seek his advice of her fortunes.
The maiden was so fair with her hair long and shining black like cascade of ink, her eyes the shade of amber like green trees of life, her skin pale white glowing like pearl, her delicate hand swaying her fan softly back and forth; her voice like singing songs. She was respectful and seductive in his presence. She paid for his advice with antique gold coins of the highest quality. Then she left his temple in a magnificent sedan carriage.
The Golden Monk was impressed and sent a servant to follow her, to discover who she was and where she lived. The servant returned several hours later, and told him that the maiden lived several "li" north of the temple in an old but splendid big house.
For days, the Golden Monk could not get the maiden’s face out of his mind. And since the Golden Monk was someone who indulged in lies and sins all his life, he imagined touching her, owning her, and ravaging her. When he closed his eyes at night, the maiden was right there in front of her, naked.
He asked his scroll oracle about her. The scroll replied, “The man she loved is dead.”
“That’s good. Then I shall pay her a visit,” the Golden Monk thought.
He prepared a poem telling his feeling toward her, comparing it to a pool of calm water being stirred by the autumn wind. He gave the poem to the servant to take to the maiden.
The servant came back with her reply, a poem in which she described the reflection of the moon in the calm pool of water stirred by the autumn wind. His heart was swollen with desire as he read it, impressed by the elegance of her brushwork.
He couldn’t wait, rushed to the maiden’s house by the evening. He begged her pardon for his sudden appearance, claiming that he was traveling north for a fortune-telling appointment, and needed to stay overnight before leaving for his appointment.
She invited him to dine with her.
The house was magnificent. Her servants brought them the finest foods he had ever eaten. “I have never tasted anything this exquisite!” he said, nibbling on a piece of exotic meat in cold sesame sauce.
“And to think,” she said softly, “if I had not been here with you, you might have been sitting in a tumbling old house somewhere, feeding on mice and spiders…”
At the end of the meal, the Monk made it clear that he would like to enjoy her physical company. She told him that it was quite impossible.
“I can never be yours while you have your temple. After you have made love to me, then you will forget me and leave me all alone here. You’d better go to another house for the night. If ever you are free to love me, I should want you to come and live in my house with me. With the temple, you might always want to look after it, and one day would leave me for your temple.”
The Golden Monk caught a glimpse of her smooth white breast, with the nipple as pink as a baby’s lips. He was burning with lust, “I shall dispose of the temple and come live with you, only you, if it pleases you.”
“One more thing” said the maiden, her amber eyes staring into his, “and that is your magic. How can I be your love if I know that you, in your scroll oracle and magical wands, have the power to change me into a toad if I displease you?”
She bent over to pour him more wine, which caused her robe to open a little more, exposing both her breasts to his view. At this, the Monk could no longer contain himself, and he leapt to grab her. But the maiden deftly avoided his grasp, and bade him goodnight. The Monk was groaning with disappointment, and a certain madness.
On the next night, there was a huge fire at the Dragon King temple, the magnificent structure burned to the ground. It was a tragic fire that engulfed all the servants and the Monk’s associates while they were asleep inside the temple, and it took their lives. The Golden Monk had left the temple early in the day, carrying a cart load of all his scrolls, wands, implements of magic, and some decorative gold.
The Golden Monk arrived at the house of the maiden in the evening. “My temple is burned down, and my people are dead. I have no one to love but you, and nowhere to go but here.”
She smiled at him, visibly pleased.
“And I have in this cart all my knowledge and power, all my scrolls, my magic wands and amulets. They allowed me to command the spirits and demons, and tell the future. I have brought all of them to you.”
The servants of the maiden took the cart, unpacked it, and took the magic implements he had brought away.
“Now I am yours,” said the Monk. “There is nothing that can come between us.”
“There is still one thing between us,” she told him. “your robe. Take it off and let me take a good look at you.”
The Monk was mad with impatience and lust. He slipped off his robe and stood there, stark naked. He opened his arms wide to embrace the maiden. She picked up his robe and held it close. “Now you have no temple, no servants, no friends, no magic, no clothing. You have lost it all for me. And it’s time I will give something back to you.”
She held out her hands, pulling his head toward her lips, as if she were about to kiss him on his forehead.
“But you shall keep your life,” she whispered, “for he would not have wanted me to kill you.”
A snake’s bite can be very painful.
With a hiss from her tail, she was gone.
**********
The Golden Monk was found alone in an abandoned empty house on the border of the community, naked and quite mad.
Some said the burning of his temple drove him to madness. Others said it was the loss of his eye, which some superstitious folks believed was caused by magic gone wrong.
The town people and his old associates avoided him when they saw him begging in the streets, with only rags to cover his wretched body, and a rag about his eye to hide his hideous face.
He lived in misery and squalor and madness until his death, with no happiness or sympathy to be found anywhere.
**********
This is the tale of the white snake and the monk. Rumor has it that those who dreamed have sometimes seen two figures, walking hand-in-hand in the distance, and that these two figures were a monk and a white snake, or it might be a man and a woman. Others didn’t think it possible, that whether in dreams or in death, a monk and a snake are from two different worlds, and in different worlds will they forever stay.
But in dreams, strange things can happen; and none of us can say if they are true or not.
